Ash Barty’s sorcery helps her to survive life under the Australian lens

The cameras follow her every move, close to 100 lenses all expertly trained almost singularly on the star of this show. Court-side, the photo pit is full to the brim, its occupants either sat on chairs or crouched on their haunches, each with their assigned sliver of space through which to document their protagonist.

Ash Barty stands at the baseline, steals a quick glance up and over the net towards her waiting adversary, then bounces and tosses the ball. Most photographers capturing what they see work for different publications but the process is always the same: bodies lean slightly forward and eyes lock on to viewfinders. Then, they are still.

Barty serves and sets about wearing down Danielle Collins. With each chase and pivot the cameras shift, just a little but in perfect unison. She nails a winner and they stand down with a prompt pull back of the head and shake of the leg, releasing the tension until the next point.

This process occurs again and again for an hour and a half. They are documenting history, shooting an Australian icon-in-waiting, and no moment can be missed. The pressure is on – and they are not the only ones inside Rod Laver Arena feeling it.

Such occasions have come and gone more than once over the past 44 years. Barty herself has tried and failed. Never before, though, has she made it to the final. Now she is here, having steamrolled every opponent in her path. Everyone in the country says she is unstoppable, and she might even know she is. But the stadium lights feel even brighter than usual and the thought of her losing feels darker. Everyone, basically, is a little bit twitchy.

Quite what Barty herself is thinking remains one of the great tennis mysteries. Even carrying this mighty load she